Navigating the Middle Years in a Strange Land

Fireside Perspectives

It had been a very tough few days. Don’t get me wrong now, we were in Cork, so even though it was the saddest of circumstances we still managed to have some fun. But overwhelmingly, between the fact that one of my favorite people in the world had made an exit (untimely, even at 82), spouse and child abandonment, and a bunch of passport and school work issues, it was a tough week.

My sister Audrey and I, both over unexpectedly from the States, sat on the couch at my Dad’s house a few evenings ago, completely worn out. “How are you?”, I asked her. “Cranky” she replied. “The dead Rita thing?”, I asked. “Yup”, she nodded. “I’m cranky too”, said I, “In fact I’m writing a detailed Facebook post about it this very minute”. Here’s what I wrote:

Top 10 Reasons Why I’m Cranky:

1. Contacted US Embassy and told them that Dept of State has been useless when it came to helping me solve emergency travel dilemmas, but that the Irish government has been amazing. Fearing spell in Guantanamo.

2. Received warm and helpful phone call from US Embassy within three minutes of hitting send, because, it turns out, (we) Americans are a touch competitive. Problem not made better:

3. Learned that I can’t reenter the States on an Irish passport if I have an American passport and I will need to go to a Thursday appointment in Dublin (3 hours drive from where I currently am) to get an emergency travel document.

4. Heard from the Irish passport office that my Irish passport is ready for collection in Cork (where I am today) on Friday (when I will now be in Dublin).

5. Am concerned about the logistics of wrangling masses of luggage from Cork to Dublin City Center and out to Ballsbridge and then to Ranelagh.

6. I have turned in no graduate degree work this week, and course seems to have vanished.

7. Airlines apparently won’t take your word for it that people have died and need death certificates to change flights without charging astronomical fees, so my poor grieving father was marched into the Registrars office today to get Rita’s death certificate. This was not a fun outing. Rita being dead is beginning to seem like a permanent situation. We’re giving her one more week to pull up.

8. Have eaten too much Tayto and am possibly going to have to now buy two airline seats to get to the States, even if they do deign to allow me back in.

9. Penney’s made me buy clothes I can neither afford nor have any room in my suitcase for.

10. Bank of America sent me a warm and helpful email today to remind me of that point.

Mood clearly not improved.

I hit Post and off my complaints went into cyberspace. Quite a few friends were indulgent enough to offer words of support A few commented that I could still make them laugh, even when complaining. However, as I read the replies I realized that I was sitting in front of the fire, in my Dad’s house in Cork, having been given leave from family and work to be present for my lovely Rita’s funeral. I shut down the cranky post and put this in its place:

Things I am grateful for:

Rita Walsh as part of my whole life minus one week.

A husband and children who didn’t complain once about me skipping the country with just hours notice, plus a husband who never even blinked when I put a ridiculously expensive air fare on the credit card.

A principal and co-workers who said, “Just go. We’ve got it under control”.

An amazing Cork family – people who laugh a lot and make great memories together.

A sister who neither snores nor kicks in the night and who isn’t too bad in the day either.

A father, a brother and brother in law who open their doors and hearts to us without hesitation or notice.

My Irish friends who simply showed up.

Tayto.

Penneys.

Cork people – their warmth, their lack of formality, their sense of irreverence, and their wit.

Having two homes and two countries even if it sometimes complicates the paperwork!

We all know it theoretically; everything is perspective. That night, given my high levels of “woe is me”, I was proud of a particularly quick and solid turnaround in thinking. Sure, it was a rough few days, and we were tired and cranky and sad, but sitting by our father’s fire in Waterfall, there was also much to be thankful for.

Cathy, what a lovely post. Perfectly captures that dichotomy of place that so many emigrants put up with. I know how you feel, having emigrated in ’95, just one year after you! Now, 20 years later, still missing “home”, but realising that I have another home too, here in Colorado. On passport dilemmas, my birth cert, sent to passport office in Dublin and then back to San Francisco, has somehow never made it back to me, so a copy of it is floating around out there somewhere for the last 4 years.